Author's notes: Well I got this thing finally ready. I wanted a smaller chapter, but the story didn't reach the part where I felt it would feel the best to cut it, so it stretched a little. Luckily, I'm done now and can keep moving forward.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; Fate/Stay Night belongs to Type-Moon/ Kinoko Nasu. Dragon Age belongs to Bioware and EA.
Chapter 4
Templars are not as quite as they are painted to be.
"BLERGH!"
The loud undignified sounds of Arturia emptying the contents of her stomach bounced noisily all over the dirt-paved alleyway behind the High stone fence of Denerim's Chantry. A glowing, pulsating bright blue liquid scurrying from the young woman's mouth and splashing in front of her feet, forming a puddle and slowly seeping into the greedy earth as the former King laid hunched over her knees looking much worse for wear.
"Easy there my king, you're almost done expelling all that Lyrium from your system." The voice of a man said from behind, a fellow templar, clad in the plated armor of the order with the inlaid image of the flaming sword on his chest and the red skirts draping around his legs. Tall and broad of shoulders and playing Sentry for any unwanted eyes as much as he was trying to give support to the once upon a time monarch. He was handsome with violet eyes and short purple hair.
"Lancelot… Keep your opinions to yourself. You're not helping…" Arturia grumbled as she finished spitting what remained of the disgusting mystical concoction between her teeth. Tasting the burning numbness of Lyrium on the tip of her tongue before wiping her mouth with the back of a gauntleted hand. She too was wearing armor that marked her as a member of the order of Templars, though hers was one that denoted the rank of acolyte rather than that of a full-fledged knight, mostly composed of boiled leather with the occasional metal protection reserved only for the vital organs and the expected colors and religious imagery of the faith.
It had been two years since she had decided to transfer to the Chantry of Denerim and in that time, she's been having more and more doubts about joining the templars for good. When she first arrived at the capital, she honestly hadn't expected for one of her former knights in her past life, and the one to have helped accelerate the fall of her kingdom at that, to be there already serving as one of the active Templars on duty.
It is undeniable that Lancelot too hadn't expected to meet his former liege again, if the flabbergasted slack-jawed expression of his when he first caught sight of Arturia was any indication. The knight of the lake had been reborn in this life as the second child of a well-off Bann, and as soon as he was able to stand on his two feet and grab a training sword, he wasted no time in trying to retake his vows as a knight; spending his teen years traveling through Ferelden in the hopes that his King had also been granted a second chance in this new life of his, and wishing for nothing else but to serve at his side again. However, his search proved unfruitful, and, incapable of traveling to other countries to continue with his quest due to the lingering resentment and hostility towards neighboring Orlais and the suspicions and derision from the marcher states on the other side of the Waking Sea, Lancelot returned home in defeat and decided to join the Chantry as a Templar in an attempt to make penitence for the sins he feels he committed against his King in his past life. Just as he had done when he was alive after the death of his king. But Lo and behold, just when he had lost all hope of seeing his liege again, his King decided to be magnanimous and reveal himself to him to give him a chance he didn't deserve.
At least that was what the former first knight thought. For Arturia, it was a completely different story.
It had been really awkward for Saber to see her former best knight again, as she didn't really know what to say to him after all the history between them. She's ashamed to confess that she spent most of her time during her first couple of weeks in Denerim trying to avoid her former knight. Always making her exit when she saw him enter a same room as her or making sure she was never truly on her lonesome by ensuring there was always someone from the clergy or a fellow Templar present at all times. Eventually, the silent tension had become too much for his former knight that he had no other choice but confronting her in the open, uncaring of any property, and demanded a private conference with her. The fellow priests and priestesses present, dressed in the white and red robes of the faith, had found the sudden harsh demeanor of the former knight of the lake towards her to be rather odd; as it was so unlike him in the time they had gotten to know him, wondering what Arturia could have done to set him in such a foul mood considering how much of a dutiful and exemplar servant of the Chantry she has proven to be on the few scant weeks she had been on the capital.
Knowing her time at ignoring the issue was at an end, Arturia had walked after her former knight with all the composure of someone stepping into a battlefield. Eyes grim but determined, bearing high and proud but tensing at the ready to spring into action at any moment. The sisters and mothers of the chantry silently prayed that Ser Lancelot might find in his heart not to be so severe towards the girl for whatever slight she might have unsuspectedly caused him.
Lancelot led Arturia into the barracks located inside a neighboring outbuilding outside of the small and humble compound of the Chantry, a long stone corridor built in the interior of the city walls lined with wooden doors on each side, each leading into communal chambers filled with many bunk beds where the Templars and their squires and apprentices could rest safely.
They retired into a lonely unoccupied room among many, Lancelot locking the door behind her. The dry sound of clicking Iron seemed to herald the inevitability of their fateful confrontation. There would be no escape to be found, no clever diversion or unexpected stroke of luck that would keep her from avoiding facing her former knight again. A grip of sudden apprehension clasped around Arturia's heart, her throat began to run dry… And she suddenly found herself grasping the hilt of her sword tightly with a hand, a faint ringing shrill of metal sounding for a moment, her knuckles going white beneath her plated gauntlet.
Saber had expected yells and beratements, even the threat of violence. What she hadn't expected was for Lancelot to get on his knees in front of her and started to cry, asking for her forgiveness, asking for punishment for having betrayed her and broken his vows of fidelity.
Arturia was left speechless for a moment, it never occurred to her the possibility for this outcome to take place. Memories from a lifetime ago began to resurface at that moment, her brain bringing to the forefront of her mind images from the time she fought a war between heroes in the hopes of gaining the almighty Holy Grail, a powerful mystical artifact capable of granting wishes by rewriting reality. A time where she was shackled to a treacherous Master that never showed the faintest trace of trust in her and never made the attempt of either knowing her or working with her, and in the end would betray her and get rid of her like so much as discarded trash. A time where she was forced to face her former number one knight in deadly combat.
Saber remembered how Lancelot, who had the misfortune of having been summoned for the war under the class of a Berserker (A class that that has the infamous reputation of infecting the mind of the servant with madness and stripping him of any rationality) had made almost the same request as this one of wishing to be punished by her. But she had chalked it up as the side effects of the mad enhancement addling Lancelot's mind. Though deep inside her, she knew this not to be true and it was just her foolish desire at the time of not wanting to deal with the implications that such revelation entailed and instead decided to focus her mind and efforts in the hunt for the grail for the chance of erasing all her mistakes, and thus such uncomfortable implications would have not existed in the first place.
But that was then, and this is now. There is no magical wish-granting device to keep her from confronting the ghosts of her past, no outside influence that would give her an excuse to build a convenient illusion to keep herself from facing the truth. It was now only her, and the knight clearly suffering by his guilt in front of her.
She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, causing the desperate swordsman to look up at her through tear streaked eyes, and said. "There is nothing to forgive Sir Lancelot…"
Unsurprisingly, this wasn't the answer that the former Knight of the Lake was wishing for and that's when the yelling and self-recriminations began. Arturia weathered all of Lancelot's reproaches with enviable ease, reacting to them the same way as one would towards a faint breeze. After letting her former knight vent until he ran out of breath, Arturia proceeded to explain to him her reasons for not having any kind of animosity towards him despite all that occurred at the end of her reign.
She told him how despite being a good king, the greatest to ever exists, she was never able to understand the hearts and feelings of her subjects. The king was supposed to be noble, the king was supposed to be just, the king had to be strong, he always had to be nothing more but the perfect embodiment of all the precepts that goodness and chivalry represented. But he could never be anything else… He could never show weakness, he could never lay his burdens down for any moment, he could never show biased favor over anybody, he could never be anything but perfect. And that meant never to mingle among his people or partake of their joys and sadness. He was to rule them, but not to live among them.
Lancelot remained silent during his king's explanation, unable to believe what he was hearing. How could be for his noble beautiful king to be less than perfect. Small wonder he was unable to understand the message that his king was trying to convey with his words.
So Arturia just smiled and continued speaking. She might have loved Guinivere, and she too might have loved her once, but she was never able to express the depth of her feelings or give to her the happiness she deserved… Underneath all the armor and the masculine clothes, she was a woman, and a woman cannot love another woman the same way a man can. Even when Merlin turned her temporarily into a pseudo-male, there was always this unsurmountable distance between them, an unsaid awkwardness that kept them both from becoming truly close. And rather than try to find a common ground with Guinevere and strive to improve their relationship, she stood aside and held her tongue, letting the distance between them to stretch further.
In retrospective, Arturia shouldn't be surprised that their marriage ended up falling apart. Despite the love and the cherish they had for each other, the word of god always said that marriage was a sacred union between a man and a woman. If anyone had ever discovered her true gender, they would have labeled her marriage with Guinevere as unnatural.
A spike of anger suddenly flared from Lancelot, who pledged that if ever there had been someone so insensate as to utter such words, whether in her presence or not, he would have not hesitated to give them a taste of his blade.
Arturia gave a small smile at her former knight, an expression that was both glad and sad. She thanked him for his loyalty but told him that not even the best of intentions can compete with reality. In truth, when she had first heard about his affair with Guinevere, she had been hoping he could have been the one able to give her the joyfulness that she couldn't. She didn't have any grudge towards Guinevere for wanting to be happy, she deserved that much after spending so many years suffering in silence under the lack of attention that she had unwittingly caused her. So, on that note, how could she berate her own knight for taking upon his shoulders the duties that she herself was unable to fulfill?
It had been her hope that the two of them could find happiness with each other. In fact, she secretly had desired for him to take Guinevere away and far from the affairs of the court, for the two of them to elope into some distant and remote land so that she didn't found herself with her hand forced into punishing them. But he didn't, despite being guilty of the sin of adultery, Lancelot still had his sense of honor. So, he didn't run, and he didn't take Guinevere away... And thus, the king had no other choice but to punish Guinevere and condemned her to the pyre. And then when Lancelot rescued her and finally deigned himself to run away to keep Guinevere from harm, killing two of her nephews and fellow knights of the round table in the process, Sir Gawain's brothers… There had been no other choice but for her to chase after them for having gone against her edicts and avenge the blood that had been spilled.
Lancelot was crying, even now after all that had happened, his great beautiful king still put the well-being of others first before himself. If only he had been more receptive about his kings wishes, then none of the disaster that came next would have happened. "Even so, no matter whether you forgive me or not my king, I still broke the oath of fealty I had sworn on your name in the eyes of god… I turned my back to my vows and defied your commands. Defied you… You should punish me, it is your right. In truth, your forgiveness is the worst possible torture you can subject me to, for you see, it brings no end to this guilt that is consuming me from the inside. Please my king… I know I don't deserve any mercy after what I did, but please. Please! Put an end to this guilt, release me from this torment! Berate me! Tell me what I did was wrong. Anything!" The former knight of the lake begged, prostrating in front of his king on his knees and demanding for just retribution.
Arturia looked down at her knight with great pity, feeling such a terrible sadness at seeing such honorable man reduced to this. She leaned forward towards him, put a hand over his shoulder, Lancelot staring up at her with big pleading eyes… And then she slapped him right in the face! A loud clapping sound of flesh being struck echoing in the suddenly silent room.
"Pull yourself together Lancelot! Such display is unseemly for a knight of the round table…!" Arturia reprimanded imperiously, a rather baffled Lancelot staring at her as he pressed a hand to his reddened cheek, confusion evident in his eyes.
Saber sighed. "You say you are guilty of having betrayed me and becoming the unsuspecting catalyst of the uprising against my reign. But that is only partially true, I too am guilty in part for what happened. Once more as it was habit during my past life, I failed to understand the feelings of the people around me, double so for those most near and dearest to me. Lancelot, it was never my intention for you to suffer this guilt that plagues you. I never knew my kindness caused you such pain, I feel as if I failed you as your lord and ruler for not seeing this affliction that I inadvertently caused you. In my seal to uphold honor, I didn't realize how much unnecessary anguish I was making you go through. So, as much as you want me to punish you for your betrayal, I would also like for you to forgive me for being blind and deaf to your suffering. A king should not be so thoughtless towards those who depend on him…" She declared, gesturing towards her knight.
The former knight of the lake seemed scandalized by such request. "No, my king! You did nothing wrong! You were the best ruler there ever was in Britain's history, never doubt that! If only I had been more conscious about your wishes, then the rebellion would have never happened, and I would have gladly taken Lady Guinevere away as just you wanted, and your Kingdom would have been saved my lord!" He declared passionately, raising back to his feet.
Arturia couldn't keep a giggle from escaping her lips, it caused Lancelot no small amount of perplexity. "My king…?"
"I'm sorry Lancelot… Is just that I find it funny how the two of us cannot accept the possibility of any fault lying on the other party and wish to place the entire blame of what occurred solely on our own shoulders… It is maddening once you stop to think about it, we will never be able to get anything done at this rate…" Arturia said with a rueful smile.
Lancelot blushed a little after listening to the words of his king and accepting the blatant folly of the situation. Arturia became a little pensive for a moment, a self-depreciating smile still on her lips. "You know… I've had many years now after being reborn in this world to think about what happened during our past life and ended up coming with the conclusion that no matter what happened, whether you and Guinevere had an affair or not, the rebellion would still have occurred…"
The former knight of the lake seemed disturbed at the declaration, his jaw clearly tensing in response. "What makes you say that my king…"
Arturia remained silent for a few seconds before finally letting out a sigh, it was hard for her to acknowledge and accept her own mistakes, especially in front of another person, nevermind the fact that person was one of her former knights which is the only reason in the end that she decided to trust him with this secret of hers. "I've already told you how I was incapable of understanding the feelings of other people, and it was that glaring flaw that played a great deal in the downfall of my kingdom. I never knew how many of the nobles were discontent with my rule, that by giving the image of a perfect noble king I was slowly distancing myself from my subjects who couldn't really believe I was as good and honorable as I portrayed myself to be and slowly began to harbor suspicions in their hearts. Human beings are distrustful by nature and cannot accept the fact that someone would do something out of the goodness of his heart without getting anything for himself in exchange. This is a lesson I've been only able to learn in this new life of mine…" Saber groused, remembering the conversations she unwittingly spied upon as a baby between Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan and all the spats and confrontations she had with the old Arl over his 'lessons'. To be fair, the old Arl was not an unkind man nor did he was cruel by nature and even cared about her and Alistair in his own way; but he was inflexible in his beliefs and put too much stock over traditions, status and reputation.
"With so many nobles harboring a secret grudge towards my reign, it was only a matter of time before someone ignited the flames of rebellion." Arturia kept speaking. "All that was needed was a spark, and I'm afraid you and Guinevere were simply pawns who gave Mordred the perfect opportunity to rally all the dissidents lying in wait and raise them in arms against me…"
Lancelot's stare turned hard for a moment at the mention of the Knight of Betrayal, it was a sour subject for him to think about the man (?) who took advantage of his blunder to bring about the end of his king's reign. But eventually Lancelot's mood deflated, and he slumped his shoulders in dejection. "So, it was all for nothing in the end…?" He said in a faint whisper.
Arturia turned her gaze at the ceiling, her emerald eyes distant. "I've wondered that same question many a time in the past… I haven't really come up with an answer yet… But I would like to believe that with our actions we've managed to preserve the lives of the innocent, regardless of the fact that Camelot fell in the end. I've come to learn that a kingdom is not the King who rules, nor the nobles in power or the knights that defend it, but the people… And as long as the people remember, then the kingdom can never truly fall…" She declared, turning to look back at the knight as she remembered all the people that have leaved a mark on her in this new life. Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon, Ser Perth and the rest of the of Redcliffe's knights, Juctice… Her brother Alistair. Even that harpy Isolde has leaved a mark, though not necessarily a good one in her case.
Lancelot smiled at his King, his spirits lifted from the bottom of contempt. "My king is wise as I remember him to be, maybe even wiser…"
Arturia blushed, and awkwardly scratched the side of her face. "Well, as I said, I've had a lot of time to think about my past actions." She stammered, her face flushing a little as she remembered all those long discussions she had with Justice when she had first been reborn into this world about the nature of his ideal and if her actions to lead Britain were the correct ones. She hasn't spoken with the old spirit of Justice in a long while, years to be exact, not since she was a toddler who could barely keep her balance to remain on her feet without falling on her rump. Trying to wield a sword as a child had been even harder, so much mastery and technique rendered completed useless because her little hands were unsuitable to lift a simple blade. It took her years and lots of efforts to solve that issue but solve it she did in the end.
With a shake of her pretty head Arturia got rid of the distracting thoughts and got back to speaking with her former knight again. "It doesn't matter anyway, all this happened in another lifetime. We should best take this opportunity that has been granted to us to be better than what we were before and make sure not to commit the same mistakes we did in the past. We owe it to our fellow knights from Camelot, our duties to our former homeland might have come to an end with our deaths, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't learn from the lessons that were taught to us and keep them close to our hearts as we brave the wonders of this new world so very different from our own. And yet, so much alike in many other aspects…."
Lancelot stood quiet for a while, pondering over his King's words, until finally he spoke again. "And how are we supposed to do that my king? All my life, ever since the fall of our Kingdom, all I wanted was to serve you again, to make amends for my treason and earn the right to fight under your command once more…" He asked in a forlorn voice, his face sullen and grave like a drowning man wishing for any kind of salvation.
Arturia was a little perplexed at her former knight's loyalty, though in hindsight it shouldn't have come as a surprise. "Well… I'm afraid I cannot accept you under my service again." Lancelot's face fell at that. "Do not misunderstand, if I had the authority I would accept you back as my knight if I could, but I can't. I'm no longer a King in this new life of mine, I have no lands, hold no titles to my name, have no riches to call my own. I am just Arturia the Templar apprentice nothing more, nothing less..."
Lancelot blinked for a straight heartbeat as he processed those words. "I've heard rumors among the revered mothers about you having a brother and that both of you are bast—"
Arturia cut him off before he was able to finish that sentence. "Yes, Alistair and I are the illegitimate children of the former king Maric, that it's true…" She sighed. "But that is all that we will be, illegitimate, we do not have the rights or privileges to be eligible of taking over the throne of Ferelden. Besides, the country has already a King in place, my half-sibling Cailan, who was ordained into his post by the majority of the nobles and banns of this country. He might not be the most effective King there ever was, but neither is he a tyrant, so we must respect his right to rule. Or would you rather have me start a rebellion and rise against a member of my own family in an attempt to take over the throne just like Mordred did?" She asked with obvious jest.
Lancelot nostrils flared in anger at that. "Never my king! You will always be a much better ruler and honorable knight than that traitor!"
Arturia nodded unsurprised, having expected such answer. "There you have it. There is no point to try and make things to be back the way they were when there is nothing left to save in the first place. Neither the Camelot nor the people we knew ever existed in this world, to think otherwise would mean we are just deluding ourselves in an illusion. Trapped in our memories, incapable of moving forward." Saber jaw's tensed, the face of the half-sibling that she raised on her own, and the smile of the mother that gave birth to her appearing prominently in her mind. "That is not a destiny I would want to befall me in this new world, and is certainly not something I would like for you too… However… There might be a silver lining to all this, and opportunity to make things right…"
Lancelot raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What do you mean, my king?"
"I might no longer have the right to accept you as my knight to serve under me, but you can still serve at my side as a fellow Templar, an equal… A friend…" She hesitantly proposed.
Lancelot was taken aback at such suggestion. "My king!"
"Lancelot, I find myself in a position in which I require to have people close to me whom I can trust. This world is so new and strange in many ways that I've found myself in the need of keeping many of my abilities hidden for fear of persecution, any slip from my part could bring unforeseen disaster to fall upon myself and those close to me. An as a knight I cannot allow my own actions to endanger the lives of innocent people." Arturia stated firmly.
"Up until now, I was in a somewhat sheltered lifestyle that allowed me to sharpen my martial skills while at the same time keep most of my knowledge from my previous life a secret. But now that I'm all alone and on my own on this new world, I cannot allow myself to make mistakes. Even now, after having years to ponder over my past failings and trying to improve my lack of social skills, I'm still having trouble when attempting to understand the feelings of other people, which sometimes causes me no small amount of embarrassment. Though so far, it's only been over pretty minor issues, I can't help but think it would be best to have someone that could educate me in the finer points and nuances of human interaction and keep me from committing any mishap. I had no idea what to do to solve this situation but now that I know that you too have been reborn in this world alongside me, I wonder if you will be the ideal man to assist me in this endeavor…?" The former King asked in her usual regal and proper voice.
Lancelot couldn't believe what he was hearing, never in a thousand years could he have imagined such occasion. "My king… Are you asking for my help…?" He dared to hope, all his previous doubts and guilt seemingly forgotten.
Arturia stayed quiet for several long seconds, until finally… "Yes… I'm asking you to help me, Lancelot. Will you do it?"
Lancelot nodded. "If it is you who asks… Then I gladly would give you my assistance my king, whatever you need! I swore I will not disappoint you!" He declared, rising back to his feet. A new-found determination burning in his eyes. In their past lifetimes Arthur had never asked for the assistance of any of his knights, he was their lord and commander and they obeyed his orders without question. Even when surrounded by all of his knights the king never allowed himself a moment of respite, never showing weakness or weariness, and never asking anything out of anyone that he wasn't capable of doing on his own no matter the circumstance. Never delegating or having others carry tasks in his stead, always wanting to do everything on his own. Which brought no small amount of headache to his humble knights when the king was being stubborn in wanting to do something that he was clearly incapable of doing. Like holding court after he had been wounded in battle.
For his king to finally ask for help on something, it must be a truly miraculous occasion, or a truly dire situation that would force his king to swallow his pride and finally allow anyone to lend him a hand in shouldering his burdens. Which means that no matter what, Lancelot can't fail him. Regardless whether, or not, he still holds great guilt over his betrayal, his king is calling for his aid, and thus he is duty-bound to answer.
Saber nodded, seeing the new fire burning inside his former knight. "Then come Lancelot, come and lend me your aid. Not as a Knight sworn to his king but as a fellow soldier partaking in the act of camaraderie with a peer…"
"I—I would never dare to consider myself equal to you my king…" Lancelot hesitated.
"Nevermind that right now, as long as you uphold the values we once believed in and treat me justly and fairly as you would any other knight, that would be enough… Just one last thing… Don't call me a King while in public…" Arturia added as an afterthought.
"Not in private or when alone…?" Lancelot asked in curiosity.
Arturia shook her head amicably, a faint smile tracing on her lips. "I doubt you would completely stop calling me King even if I were to order you, so there is no point in assigning you an impossible task…"
"Ah, my king is indeed wise…"
Right now, she was seriously considering if it was truly wise to accept Lancelot to remain at her side again. There are moments when she regrets her decision, like right now when she is all but helpless as she forces her body to expel a foreign concoction while Lancelot does nothing but stand there and watch and make the occasional comment.
After cleaning herself the best she could, Arturia took one last breath of air to calm herself and bring her bodily functions back to her control, the former knight of the Lake just staring at her patiently waiting for her to end.
"Feeling better my king?" Lancelot said as Arturia leaned over the walls of the alleyway to support herself, a last moan escaping from her sore throat.
"Just peachy, never been better… I feel like doing cartwheels in front of the main altar to Andraste…" Arturia replied, putting every single lesson of sarcasm she had learnt from Alistair into play, which with her voice and expression gave her and impressive deadpan that seemed carved out of stone.
Lancelot chuckled. "Now that will be quite a sight, I can just imagine the faces of the lay sisters and revered mothers… You know, I think I like this new you better my king. You never used to jest or mill about with the rest of us humble knights back in Camelot…" He said with a little rueful smile.
A jolt ran through Arturia's spine, the memory of a time long past making her close her eyes briefly in remembrance… And regret. "Aye… Who knew all I needed was a younger little brother with a clever mouth to pester me for a decade and some in order to develop a faint appreciation for humor…" She said as she composed herself the best she could before pushing herself away from the wall to stand back on her two feet.
She was starting to dislike her time with the Templars. This had been her first taste of Lyrium, and it hadn't been a pleasant one. She wasn't blind to what the glowing blue liquid did to the knights who drank it, making them develop an addiction and over time taking its toll over their minds and wits. She has seen elder templars being carted away to one of the so-called hospices for retired servants of the Chantry, what once had been a proud knight and protector of the faith was reduced to a jittering wrecked mass of nerves incapable of speaking anything but blubbering nonsense and gibberish. A sad fate for someone who had served the Chantry for many years with loyalty and dignity to the best of his abilities. It was a destiny she didn't wished for herself.
So, she has tried her best to delay the last parts of her instruction to keep her from being fully inducted into the Templar order as a proper knight. But there is only so much she can drag her feet without raising questions, especially with how dedicated she is in her constant pursuit to improve her mastery over the martial techniques of the Templar order. The pressure from her superiors just kept piling up every day, demanding her to take her vows. She had been able to deny them so far by taking a humble stance and saying she doesn't want to be shown special favor over the rest of her fellow trainees, but as the rest of her class moves closer to the day of their anointment, so too Arturia's time to find a solution from becoming an addicted thrall is running out. There is something essentially wrong with any organization that forces their apprentices to get used to the taste of a substance well known for causing addiction just to ensure the total control and loyalty of its militant arm.
Lancelot sympathizes with her sentiment, but there is nothing much he can do, much less as a fully-fledged Templar himself. All he can do is give her some advice to try to reduce the discomfort and side-effects of taking Lyrium. One of those advices is what led her to her current situation, as he had suggested the she should do like him and go out into one of the capital's many alleyways to clear the contents of her stomach after the Lyrium intake ceremony was over, saying that by getting rid of the Lyrium before the body is capable of digesting the substance it would help into mitigating its effects somewhat.
Obviously, this is one less than adequate solution, since according to him she will still have to deal with the shakes for the next few days as her body recovers from having the digestion process of the magical concoction stopped midway. But at least it would be much easier for her to fight against and resist the effects of addiction unlike most other templars and it will not cause her such a heavy strain to her mind as it would do otherwise. At least that's what Lancelot has told her it's been for him for the last five years since his anointment.
"Sounds like an interesting fellow. I hope I am able to meet your brother Alistair someday my king." Lancelot's voice said, bringing Arturia's thoughts back to the present.
"Someday maybe…" She said half-distractedly, as she made sure she was presentable. "I think is time we go back before unseemly rumors about the two of us start to crop up…" She said, turning around and walking past Lancelot, signaling her former knight to follow her with a gesture.
They exited the narrow seedy alleyway back into the dirt-paved streets of Denerim, the day was warm and sunny, barely any cloud was present on the sky, yet it was not uncomfortable as the breeze from the sea made sure to keep the inhabitants of the capital refreshed, alongside spreading the scent of raw fish coming from the Docks. Well… At least it covered somewhat the smell of wet dog that seemed to eternally permeate most of the cities of Ferelden, yet one could barely call that an improvement.
For the capital of a country, the city made for a less than impressive sight. Certainly, it paled against the magnificence that had been Camelot, but then again, her former country had been one of the most prosperous nations at the time. Compared to that, Denerim seemed little better than a propped-up fishing town.
The only good thing she could say about Denerim at first sight was its defenses. Great and tall sturdy walls made of stone encircled the entire city, protecting it from any assault be it either by land or sea, with moats and dams placed on strategic locations on each side of the river Drakon that ran through the middle of the city. A series of extra inner walls gave added protection in case the outer walls were breached, coincidentally separating the city into sections were the different classes of citizens could reside: The market, where the Chantry was located and Arturia's and Lancelot's current location. The main residential area where the majority of citizens lived squeezed together in narrow wooden constructions that pressed on one another, a dangerous place that was little more than a labyrinth of narrow alleyways filled with gangs of thieves, cutthroats and bandits. The docks, where most of the inns and brothels were located and thus the place where most of the riots and bar fights tended to occur. The palace quarter, where the King and the royal family lived, this is the place where the foreign Orlesian King Meghren put the head of her grandmother Moira on display atop the main gates to threaten everybody from rebelling against his rule and where King Maric put his own head after slaying him during the siege of the city at the end of the Rebellion. Fort Drakon, the main military stronghold of the city, standing since the days of the Tevinter Empire, the oldest and most prominent building in the city. the noble quarter; where the Banns and Arls from all around the country had their residences for when they decided to visit the city, each a little fort into themselves; and finally the Alienage, a place where the elven populace of the city was locked up to be kept from causing trouble and forgotten by most of the rest of the city, leaving the poor elves to fend for themselves in rickety and barely stable constructions stacked one atop another that couldn't really be called homes, more like hovels and that was being generous, where they would pass their existences day by day among squalor, poverty and disease.
That last one always brought a sour taste to Arturia's mouth when she thought about it, how could the nobles of this land be so irresponsible as to leave an entire population of their subjects live in misery inside their own cities? For all her faults when she ruled Camelot, at least the poor and destitute were properly cared upon by government institutions and the clergy. None of her citizens where left without a roof over their heads or food in their bellies.
As they passed through the entrance of the Chantry's compound, a small plot of land on the edge of the Market quarter, right under the looming shadows of the city's walls. Arturia could see Revered Mother Perpetua and Sister Theohild standing on the side bickering between each other over Sister Theohild's peculiar renditions of the chant of light, as it is common, instead of carrying out with the daily duties of preaching the Andraste's holy words to the masses of the city. Saber privately admitted she preferred Sister Theohild's version of the chant, it might be a bit shameful to change the verses of the stanza of transfiguration from:
'The one who repents, who has faith unshaken by the darkness of the world,
And boasts not, nor gloats over the misfortunes of the weak,
But takes delights in the maker's law and creations.
She shall know the peace of the maker's benediction.
The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next.
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death,
For the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield…'
To…
'The one who repents, who has faith unshaken by the darkness of the world,
And roasts not, nor gloats over the misfortunes of the weak,
But takes delights in the maker's law and creations.
She shall know the peas of the maker's benediction.
The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next.
The Veal holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death,
For the Maker shall be her bacon and her shield…'
...
But she found it more… Delectable that way. Needless to say, she and Theohild quickly developed a close relationship over many pleasant and thorough lunches.
Her stomach growled at the thought of food, Lancelot smiled.
"Are you hungry my king? I suppose after scourging one's stomach of that foul beverage one would feel the need for something more palatable. Should we begin early with our societal training and head over the Bannered Mare for a bite?" The former knight of the lake inquired, raising an eyebrow. To help Arturia with her lack of social skills, Lancelot had taken upon himself the duty of taking her on little outings several times a week for some revelry on the local inns to show her how most of the common express themselves in most situations, so she can better mingle without being so stiff among them.
Arturia had the distinct suspicion that the real reason Lancelot was adamant of taking her in those mortifying excursions was simple to get some drinks while he ogled and flirted with some of the more good-looking serving girls, the fact he was already well-known among the usual clientele and had his own private tabs in the most popular of these establishments had nothing to do on why she began to suspect about his intentions, none at all…
The former King of Britain blushed a little as she tried to retain a composed front before answering Lancelot's question. "Yes… I suppose an early lunch will be an agreeable idea. But first, let us report with mother Dorothea, she's supposed to inform me of my assignments for the rest of the week…" She said as they both reached the wooden gates of the Chantry's narthex. The smell of burning incense soon hitting both once upon lord and knight in the face as soon as they pushed the old battered doors open.
Like many other sanctuaries of its type, Denerim's chantry was mostly composed of a main nave were the population could gather to hear the mass carried out by the revered mothers, rows of benches ran through the entire length of the place towards the main crossing with the statue of Andraste in the center of the altar on the other end, many other religious statues depicting other saints lined the sides of the chantry.
Arturia found it particularly curious that although the Andrastian religion is mostly centered around a saintly woman that was burned in a pyre, most Chantries she has seen so far have their interiors fashioned in the shape of a cross just like Christian churches did back in her previous world to make allusion to the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Very curious indeed, and quite mind-boggling when one starts thinking about it.
:AN: The designers of the game really fucked up in this point. They should have really paid more attention as the reasons why a church is built the way it is rather than simply copying the designs as "inspiration" for the fake religion of their game. Other games like Bloodborne at least make sure to eliminate the two side chambers named transepts and the crossing that give it the shape of a cross, leaving only the long hall (nave) and the main altar at the end. At the very least this issue seemed to be addressed in later games, can't remember seeing chantries in this shape in both DA2 and Inquisition, at the least as far as I can recall. Anyway, sorry for interrupting the story but this particularly issue really rubbed me the wrong way, those bloody morons:
Shaking such confusing thoughts out of her mind, Arturia proceeded to make her way through the long solemn corridor, Lancelot trailing behind her like a silent protector. Moving past the mostly vacant benches, and towards the main altar where the statue of Andraste was displayed prominently, silently observing over all the congregation such as it was at this hour of the day, Saber caught sight of a certain parishioner that immediately grabbed her attention. A small little girl of no more than three years old, her pretty golden mane of hair being her most prominent feature as she kneeled right in front of the statue of Andraste in silent devotion, her two little hands joined in prayer. She was dressed in the simple clothing of the common folk, telling of her humble origins. Arturia knew exactly who this cute toddler was.
"Jeanne, is that you? Don't tell me you once again are here praying instead of playing with the rest of your brothers and sisters outside…?" Arturia said with a smile as she reached towards the small toddler with a hand, patting the cute little girl in the head.
The child was brought out of her devoutness by the interruption, turning to glance at Arturia, her bright blue eyes locking upon the Templar-in-training. "Oh, Ser Arturia, it is you. And… Ser Lancelot too. Sorry for not realizing you were there. Good morning, or is it afternoon? I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what the hour of the day is…?" She said in a quiet voice, speaking with such an ease uncommon in most infants her age. The little girl seemed somewhat embarrassed at having been discovered too caught up in her praying.
Lancelot smiled at the small girl. "It's just a little past eleven, child. Still just enough to keep calling it morning. But Ser Arturia asked you a question. Are you alright? You've spent a lot of time for the past few weeks here in the Chantry on your own, is something the matter?" He asked with some concern, worrying that some misfortune had befallen the little toddler.
The cute infant shook her head in a negative. "No, everything is fine. I have nothing to complaint about…" She said.
"Then what are you doing here… my dear…?" Arturia said kindly despite some awkwardness, trying to be as comforting as she could towards the small child. Displays of affection and tenderness did not came naturally for her, as she struggled to move past her stern disposition that she had as a king. But she rationalized that if she was unable to show care for a small child then what good was she as a person in this new life of hers? At the very least, it was a little bit easier for her to show an approachable disposition towards children rather than adults, no doubt due to the years she had to practice on Alistair when they were both children.
"I was just trying to figure out if the lo—the maker has some kind of special plan for me in this life…" The child said, blushing a little at confessing her reason to be in the Chantry as long as she has been.
Arturia and Lancelot shared a look, obviously finding it mighty odd that such a small girl would pose such a deep philosophical question. Saber turned back towards the child, kneeling in front of the toddler to look her in the eyes, hesitantly placing her hands on her shoulders which incidentally ended covering most of her arms due to the girl's small size. A smile found her way to Arturia's face at this. "That's too great of a question for someone your age Jeanne, many people spend their entire lives searching for meaning and few are lucky enough to find it. I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you, you have your entire life to fret about any design the maker may have for you. If there is indeed some grand plan for you to play a role in, I'm sure it will be revealed itself to you in its own time. For now, all you should worry about is enjoying these carefree and peaceful days of your childhood. So, it's my advice for you to go outside and enjoy the presence of your friends and family while you're still able. Once you're older, you'll find yourself you have less and less time to spend with your loved ones. So, don't be too concerned about growing up child and simply be grateful for the things you already have…" She lectured with outmost seriousness, but not without kindness.
The child sighed, a rather strange and defeatist expression coming from such a young girl. "You are right Ser Arturia… I supposed it is silly of me to expect any answers to simply fall on my lap, and yes, I should spend more time with my brothers and sisters while I still can. I will try to heed your words and attempt not to worry so much from now on as to what the future might have in store for me… Thank you…" The girl said, offering a bow to the former king, prompting Arturia to release the child before she turned and started making her way back outside. Both Saber and Lancelot following her with their sight.
"She's quite the odd child isn't it my king…?" Lancelot commented as they watched the girl leave the Chantry, Arturia simply replied with a non-committal grunt. "Don't get me wrong my king, she is an endearing girl." He appeased. "It's just that is really odd for an infant of her age to delve in such complex matters. No wonder you've taken quite a vested interest in her and her family…"
Arturia said nothing and just kept looking after Jeanne until the girl was fully outside the doors of the Chantry. There is something she has refrained from informing Lancelot about Jeanne and the real reason why she tends to keep close tabs over her welfare. Despite the years they've been apart from each other, she and Alistair still have managed to retain a close relation by conferring through correspondence quite often. In one of his many letters addressed to her, Alistair regaled her of an investigation he has undertaken for quite some years without her knowledge, something that left Arturia reeling for a few seconds at the thought of her brother keeping such secret from her for any length of time. Alistair told her how he had managed to discover that their mother who had died at Redcliffe during their birth had still another child, older than them both, who had been turned away from the castle and lied to about their health, deceived into thinking they both had died alongside their mother during birth. He told her they had an older sister named Goldanna, and that he had managed to track her whereabouts to somewhere around Denerim.
Arturia initially didn't know how she was supposed to answer to such missive, considering she knew the truth about Alistair's real kinship, and, remembering the promise she had made to the now deceased king Maric, who she really didn't consider a parent to her especially when compared with Sir Ector, Arturia couldn't simply inform him about the truth of both of them being only half-siblings and that her mother was a in reality a Grey Warden elf mage.
Arturia debated long into the night about whether or not to keep the promise she had made to the king, considering his majesty passing. It would be a slight against her honor if she were to go against her word, but the king was dead, and Alistair deserved to know the truth. Regardless, if she were to decide to reveal the truth to Alistair, she would not do it through such an impersonal medium as a letter. This is the sort of things that must be handled in person and with care. Since there was not much she could do about this issue without reuniting with Alistair first, she decided to focus instead on the fact she might have another sibling somewhere and limited herself to inform Alistair that she would look in the matter herself and would let him know of any pertinent information if and when she manages to discover any leads.
It wasn't long after that when she met Jeanne for the first time, hard not to since it is very uncommon for a small child to spent long hours in the Chantry on her lonesome, she took notice of the girl but didn't look too much into the matter and barely even exchanged a few words of greetings with her. It wasn't until one of her visits when she had spent an uncharacteristically long amount of time inside the holy temple, even for her at the time, enough as for the sun to start to set in the horizon, that Arturia found herself with the task (Appointed to her by mother Dorothea) of escorting the child back home since no responsible adult would let such a small toddler wander on her own after dark.
The girl seemed shy and reluctant of accepting any help, citing it wasn't necessary since she lived pretty close by, but both Arturia and Mother Dorothea were adamant since it would have been the height of thoughtlessness to let the girl wander on her own through the dangerous streets at night, and thus Jeanne found herself being escorted home by the Templar apprentice. It was then that the former king met the small child's mother, a humble dirty-blonde haired laundry washerwoman who introduced herself as Goldanna and who thanked Arturia for having escorted her wayward daughter back home.
It comes as no surprise that Arturia was aghast at finding her supposed half-sibling, her likeness to her deceased mother was so strong that for a moment the former king was unable to speak even a word. Luckily, she was able to recover her senses before the silence became awkward and managed to deflect suspicion over her reaction by saying she was just surprised at seeing a young woman only a few years older than her already with children of her own. The declaration caused Goldanna to snort in amusement and say it was the result of teenage hormones.
Never been one to act recklessly, Arturia took the opportunity to inquire further about Goldanna's life to confirm their relation before she would consider revealing any blood ties between them. Goldanna just said she was a simple washerwoman with a veritable army of children because her useless oaf of a husband has never been any good at keeping his pecker inside his pants and most of the time she is busy either washing clothes or tending over her children. Taking that into consideration, Arturia asked if she was fine with allowing her youngest child to stay for long hours at the Chantry on her own. Goldanna just shrugged, saying that although she did find it somewhat odd for such a small toddler to possess such a great religious devotion as little Jeanne has, remembering the first time Jeanne had told her she was going to spend some time in the Chantry on her lonesome. She supposed she shouldn't be complaining about it since her daughter is just paying the proper homage to Andraste and the maker and all that, and it's not like Jeanne is getting in any trouble or doing any mischief like the rest of her siblings. Goldanna confessed she paid more attention to her other children due to necessity and the fact that she didn't had worry that much about Jeanne since she was always a well-behaved child and never wandered off to places she knew she wasn't supposed to and she always knew exactly where she could find her, plus the Chantry is literally just across the street from the back of their house.
Arturia grunted in acknowledgement, knowing that to be true, she too was surprised in how virtually took no time to escort Jeanne home. On the subject of her children, the former king inquired to Goldanna if she didn't have someone to help her look after them, no mother or father that would like to spend time with their grand-children. Obviously this was merely a move to steer the conversation in the direction Arturia wanted to gain the information she wished to know.
Goldanna's demeanor turned guarded at that, and she simply said that her mother died a long time ago, unwilling to elaborate on the subject. Offering the expected condolences at such revelation and reassuring the lone mother that she didn't wanted to cause any offense, Arturia diplomatically requested if she could ask further about the subject if it wasn't any problem.
Obviously Goldanna was suspicious of Arturia wanting to know more about her mother's death and asked her what business she had for desiring such information. Luckily Arturia was well versed in the art of diplomacy and simply said she wanted to make herself a better idea of the woman who could raise such an admirable daughter like Jeanne.
Goldanna still had some misgivings but she ultimately relented and decided to answer Arturia's questions. She revealed that as a child she used to live in Redcliffe with her mother, who served as a maid in the service of the Arl of Redcliffe, but one day at a party held by the Arl on his castle her mother got pregnant by some noble… And she didn't survive the birth of the baby.
Arturia inquired about the baby, only for the washerwoman to reply that it had been stillborn, or at least that's what the people of the castle told her before giving her a bag of coins and sending her on her way, the gates of the castle closing forever to her on that instant. She did not care much about the spawn of a noble that had his way with her mother, though she had heard rumors that the baby might have been a child of King Maric himself. It doesn't matter much to her, her mother still died and left her alone to fend for herself. After that, there was not much point to remain on Redcliffe, so she decided to make her way to the capital to make her fortune, as far away from the place that took her mother from her.
The former king continued raising questions and asked how did Goldanna knew if the baby was truly dead, if the child was indeed an illegitimate son or daughter of Maric then it would make sense for his existence to be kept secret to avoid a scandal. Perhaps she has a half-sibling running about without her knowledge.
The washerwoman didn't seem pretty thrilled at that idea, saying that she didn't cared about a bastard being kept sheltered somewhere. She made no attempt to hide her bitterness and said that it was his fault and that of his royal father that her mother died and the life she knew her entire childhood was destroyed. She didn't want anything to do with her supposed half-sibling, all she ever wanted was her mother.
Arturia was obviously disappointed by that answer, knowing she was not going to be able to make a connection with her estranged sibling. But she really couldn't fault her, considering all she had to go through after the sudden passing of their mother. On that note, maybe there was something she could do to help her half-sister, something to help take some of the burden from her and ensure the safety of her nephews and nieces.
Saber offered more condolences and requested if there was something she could do for her, making Goldanna to reply that unless she could turn back time there is nothing she could do. Arturia then inquired if there was nothing she could try to help her to make her current living conditions a little bit better, maybe she could give her a small donation to aid with her expenses. Goldanna scowled, saying that she didn't need her pity or money. She might be poor, but she still had her pride.
Arturia apologized, saying it was not her intention to offend, all she was trying to do was to look after Jeanne the best she could since it would be remiss of her as a servant of the Chantry not to lift a finger in order to help such a dedicated follower of the Maker. So, if there was anything that could she could do to lend a hand she should not be afraid to ask.
Goldanna considered her words and eventually relented, the chant does say it is commanded by the maker to lend aid to fellow Andrastians so it's not like she has any reason to refuse, especially when the offer comes from a promising young templar. So perhaps her daughter might be more of a blessing in disguise than she first expected.
From that day onwards, Arturia would assist Goldanna in the afternoons with her work after she was done with her duties for the day and from time to time give a small donation to help with her expenses, that ways she was able to interact with her estranged sister without raising suspicions and look over her five nephews and nieces to ensure their safety, especially little Jeanne. To Alistair she simply informed him in a letter that Goldanna didn't wanted anything to do with any supposed sibling and blamed them for the death of her mother. Her brother was obviously disappointed, but quickly got over it and resigned himself with a simple so be it, apparently, he did consider the possibility of a rejection but did not dwelled too much in the matter due to the fact he already had a close familial relationship with her.
Back into the present, a kind voice pulled Arturia out of her musings and called for her attention. "Jeanne is a marvelous devoted girl is she not? The world is very fortunate for having her, if only more people were just as dedicated to the maker as her, then perhaps most of Theda's problems wouldn't even exist…"
The former king and her knight turned, only to find an elder pleasant woman with the robes that marked her as a revered mother, the main head-priestesses of the chantry. Arturia and Lancelot offered a bow in respect. Of all the revered mothers and lay sisters Arturia had met since she and Alistair were fostered upon the Chantry, Mother Dorothea is without a doubt the one she respects and likes the most.
"Revered mother Dorothea…" Arturia said.
"Arturia… I see you and Lancelot are working diligently as usual, it seems you are developing into quite the sterling templar under his wing. I just hope he hasn't been teaching you some of his unseemly habits during your apprenticeship, though Templars are not obligated to make a vow of chastity if they don't want to, being free with one's flirtations is not something that tends to be looked favorably upon by most of the other sisters and brothers of the cloth." The older woman said in an amused knowing voice.
"Revered mother, I don't know what you are talking about. You must be confusing me with someone else…" The knight of the lake said with a nonchalant air, acting with faux innocence.
"Yes, I'm sure that must be the case…" She said with a shake of her head in a tone that clearly said she didn't believed him in the least. The revered mother turned then towards Arturia. "I take it you have received my message, yes…?"
Saber replied with a crisp nod. "You wanted to see me mother Dorothea, regarding my duties for next week…?" She said with some clear interest.
Dorothea answered with a nod of her own. "That is correct… As you know, for more than a year now the high officials of the order of Templars and the Chantry have been pushing to have you fully inducted ahead of schedule…" Arturia opened her mouth to speak but the older woman anticipated this and gestured for her to keep quiet. "However, as we all know, you've been refusing to be fast-tracked ahead the rest of your class, citing that you do not wish to be shown any preferential treatment over your fellow initiates. An exemplar attitude to be sure…"
"Revered mother, I don't want to sound rude, but all this is something that even the lowliest of priest already knows. What is it that you're trying to say exactly?" Arturia said, failing to see what the point of all this was.
Dorothea just smiled and made a dismissal gesture. "Mmmmph, it seems you still have something to learn about patience, something to have in consideration. Well, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised, being in a constant state of hurry is a staple of the young. It is reassuring to know that there are still things we can teach you, I've had the slight worry at times that perhaps the Chantry is not the best institution for you to dedicate your entire life to; that perhaps we were holding you down from achieving a greater destiny elsewhere. It is comforting to know that there is still some wisdom that these old bones can impart you…" The old woman said in thought.
"Revered mother…?" Arturia pressed on, not really wishing to elaborate in her reasons for rejecting advancement.
"But enough about that, let's get back to the point of the matter. It has been decided that even though you will not accept being anointed before time, despite the fact it would be all but a formality at this point, you should nevertheless receive further responsibilities of greater importance than what you're currently undertaking. This is to have a better measure of your character and see how you will perform under an official capacity as an agent of the faith once you are fully inducted into the ranks..." Dorothea explained.
"So, am I to undertake a task in the name of the Chantry?" Arturia asked, trying to divine the meaning of the revered mother's words.
Dorothea paused for a moment, giving the former king a long measuring look before speaking again. "Officially… You will be transferred under the tutelage of Otto Alrik. A recently arrived templar who will be staying in Denerim for a couple of months before being reassign to a new post…."
"Alrik…?" Lancelot spoke, disapproval evident in his tone. "He has a dark reputation as a radical and troublemaker. I've heard rumors the reason he is here is because he was declared persona non-grata by Knight-Commander Gregor at Kinloch's Hold and is being sent to Kirkwall to be taught some discipline by Knight-Commander Meredith."
Arturia frowned at that information. Kirkwall has a reputation of being a black cesspool of a city, a place rife with crime and corruption, and a preferred hiding spot for Apostates and Maleficarum who find it easy to disappear inside the labyrinthine vaults and sewers beneath the city. Once it was the center of the slave trade enforced by the once mighty Tevinter Empire, making Kirkwall earn the infamous moniker of city of chains; now long after the magisters were expelled the city has earned a new dark reputation built upon dark deeds and murder. The only reason why the Chantry has any interest on the city is because is the main seat of power of the Templar order in the Free Marches after taking control of the city in all but name from its ruler.
Barely seven years ago the ruling Viscount of the city at the time, one Perrin Threnhold, tried to oust the Templar order out of Kirkwall at sword point. Obviously, the response from the Chantry's militant arm was a violent one, Templars do not tolerate anyone trying to impede their sacred mission, and after a brief but bloody confrontation, the matter was brought to a close. However, not to lord Threnhold's favor as he was arrested and summarily executed during the uprising while the city was brought under Templar's control. For her part in the arrest of the Viscount, Meredith Stannard was promoted to Knight-Commander by Kirkwall's Grand Cleric. A new viscount was eventually elected to help keep the peace on Kirkwall, one more malleable by Templar influence as Meredith made sure to let him know who really held the reins of the city.
To say that Arturia was disturbed by this news was a misnomer, she sees nothing good that might come out from having an entire city-state being taken over by an army whose loyalties lie exclusively towards an institution that has proven to support foreign interests in the past. History proves this as the memories of the rebellion are still raw on the minds of the Fereldan populace, and they remember what the Chantry did to help the Orlesian usurpers. Religion should never get in the way of government, the only one who has the divine right to rule anything is a King.
Regardless of her misgivings, Arturia has to admit that this Alrik is for quite the hard time, as even here in Ferelden word has reached about the legendary ruthlessness of Knight-Commander Meredith, a woman known for having not an ounce of tolerance towards insubordination or mistakes of any kind.
Revered Mother Dorothea acknowledged Lancelot's statement with a nod. "Yes… Otto Alrik has less than a stellar reputation, but his dedication to both the Templar cause and order is not something that can be denied. However, there are some concerns from certain parties among my fellow priests that a situation might arise while the Denerim's Chantry plays host to Otto until his new orders arrive. So, we need to take some measures to ensure nothing disturbs him in the meantime." The venerable woman explains.
Arturia's brow furrowed. "Revered mother, are you saying that my orders are not to assist Ser Otto on his duties and learn from him, but to keep an eye on him on behalf of the clergy?" She said, quickly figuring out what mother Dorothea intended for her.
The old woman sighed, a tired exhalation that told just how distasteful this course of action was for her. "Believe me when I tell you Arturia that I'm not fond of underhanded methods, but the presence of Otto Alrik in the capital fills me with great disquiet, and you more than anyone else have proven yourself trustworthy. I can't think of anyone better for this task that I'm entrusting you. I need your help child…" She said solemnly.
The former King just nodded in acknowledgement. "Then you shall have it revered mother… I trust in your judgement and know you wouldn't be wasting my time with pointless errands unless it was truly important. I will be honored to give you all the aid I can…"
"Maker bless you, Arturia…" Dorothea replied grateful.
After a few more pleasantries were exchanged and Arturia requested a more in-depth description of her mission with a reassurance from Lancelot that he was not going to speak about what he had heard, the revered mother departed, leaving former Knight and King on their own again.
"Well… I guess this is going to be my first knightly order of gravity in this new life of mine…" Arturia commented, giving a serious look towards Lancelot.
The knight of the lake acknowledged with an equally graveexpression of his own, but then he opened his mouth. "Well then, if you are going to be busy for the next couple of months or so I believe it is even more imperative to get as much of your social training as we can right now. So, let us depart on this instant to the Bannered Mare to partake in the treats that the city has to offer!" He declared in a rather melodramatic voice.
Arturia groaned. Trust in Lancelot to find any excuse to embarrass her… At the very least, thanks to her new mission she will be spared for the next few months from this torment. Why did she though it was a good idea to ask Lancelot for help again?
Okay, that should do it for now. I hope this chapter is to your liking and enjoyment. Now I'm off to my next story to update. As always leave a review and tell me what you think, recommend this story to your friends and visit my P-a-t-r-e-o-n if you feel like it and I'll read you all next time.